


they want to bury him

by fm1978



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-16 22:54:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16504358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fm1978/pseuds/fm1978
Summary: Tauriel and Thranduil speak again, after Bard's funeral.





	they want to bury him

T.A. 2977

“You’re here,” he says, and Tauriel goes very still where she stands in front of Bard’s grave.

It’s snowing, but the sky is bright from the icy glare, and she has to squint a bit as she turns around and tilts her chin up, looking him in the eye. He hasn’t been her king in over 35 years, and even then she was not one to bow, to submit easily. He looks exactly as she remembered, silver and proud, cool and remote as the gray sky above them, untouched by the years. She knows she has been--her face is still young and youthful, but her body is littered with scars, she wears her hair differently (in a more dwarvish style), her skin has been tanned and freckled from time in the sun, away from the shady boughs of Mirkwood, and those are only the most obvious ways that her time among (primarily) mortals has changed her. She hums when she walks, she’s still more graceful than any human, but her movements are more grounded than those of any elf, and she’s quicker to speak up for herself. “Of course. Bard was my friend.”

“I would have said he was mine as well.” Thranduil shakes his head. “I had not noticed the passing of years. He was old, for a human with little Numenorean blood.”

“He had a good life, short as it may have been,” Tauriel reassures him. “After…everything, I spent several years in Dale.”

“I never saw you,” Thranduil says. His robes shimmer as he steps forward and takes his place beside her. Thranduil looks up at the statue of Bard--depicting him in his youth, barely crowned king, and still uncomfortable in his finery, but already possessed of that confidence which made him such a fine ruler. She looks at the gravestone again-- _Beloved King of Renewed Dale._ She supposes it’s a sufficient summary.

“I made certain of that,” Tauriel says. “I spent much of my time there either training guards or with his children, so our paths wouldn’t have crossed much anyways.”

“Did you attend the funeral?”

“I did. I barely made it back in time, but I was glad to. I think it brought comfort to his daughters to have me there, at both the beginning and the end.” She pauses. “Did you?”

Thranduil lets out a huff that could almost pass as laughter. “I did. I didn’t attend the celebration afterwards though.”

“Ah.” Tauriel smiles, and shakes her head. “That was the best part, the celebration of Bain’s coronation. It was the part Bard would’ve been most excited for.”

He turns away from that statue and looks at her for a long moment. Eventually, his eyebrows raise. "You still love him. The Durin prince."

Tauriel swallows and nods. There is much she could say to him, but she doesn’t need to: she knows from the last time she spoke, when Kili’s blood was still red on the cold ground of Ravenhill, that this grief was something he understood. "Aside from the time I spent here in Dale, Imladris, or in the far north with Legolas and the rangers, I've spent most of the past 30 years in Ered Luin, in the Blue Mountains. He still has family out there--old friends, his mother. They know he and I…they have been nothing but good to me, a lonely elf who loved one of their own. The Lady Dis calls me daughter."

"You have changed much," Thranduil states.

“It was not my first choice,” Tauriel says, as her hand slips to the runestone in her pocket, its weight in her palm still a comfort after all those years. “I had to. I had to grow to be…more than just an elf. It would’ve killed me otherwise.”

“Survival suits you,” he replies, and Tauriel looks back up at him, surprised. He lets out a soft sigh and continues, “You are welcome back you know. If you had ever asked--”

“I wouldn’t have,” Tauriel says, surprising herself by cutting him off. “You know that after what I did, I could not have.”

“Indeed.”

“Would you have wanted me to?”

“You were a fine guard, and a better captain. Whether I wanted you to return or not doesn’t matter. I could say, but there would be no point to.”

Tauriel releases the runestone, and holds both hands behind her back. “No, there wouldn’t be.”

He pauses a moment, and brushes a some invisible dust or a tiny snowflake off of statue Bard’s shoulder. “Still, should you ever wish to return, you are permitted.”

 _I do not want to. I am too changed to go back to a place so small. Everything else is so much bigger than just us. I loved him too much to just forget him and come home_ , Tauriel thinks. A long moment passes, before she inclines her head, ever so slightly, and says, “Thank you.”

“Tauriel.” She’s halfway across the graveyard when he says it, and she turns back around. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“And I yours,” she replies, and she turns to walk out when she spins around to face him. “My lord?”

He gives her a strange look. “I would think that you of all people would deem to call me by my name.”

“I...would not have presumed. It is no longer my place. But, Thranduil, I wish you well."

He nods at her, in acceptance and dismissal, and she leaves him at Bard’s grave, standing in the snow.

**Author's Note:**

> so this is kinda sad but! I love Tauriel and Thranduil as these examples of resilience and strength in the face of pain even though they exhibit this strength in completely different ways.


End file.
